


The Warmth of Your Touch

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluffy-ish, Hurt/Comfort, UST, episode: genderbender, mulder is scully's personal heating pad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Set in "Genderbender": Scully has stomach cramps Mulder takes care of her.





	The Warmth of Your Touch

Moving about her hotel room feels strangely intimate. Scully watches him from where she’s sitting on her bed, wrapped inside a blanket. She looks tiny, is almost swallowed whole by the thick comforter. Mulder doesn’t necessarily think of her as small; her presence is too great in his life, their work. But right now, tonight, she looks way too young, way too small to be here with him chasing monsters and aliens.

“Can I leave you alone for a moment?” He sits down at the edge of the bed but keeps his distance. She nods. Her cheeks are flushed as if she were still embarrassed, or still affected by Brother Andrew’s touch. The rest of her looks awfully pale. Mulder bites the inside of his cheek. “Is there anything in particular you need?” She shakes her head no. While Mulder understands her embarrassment, he wishes she’d talk to him. He’s seen her hold her stomach in pain, but when he asked her about it she merely told him she was fine.

“I’ll be right back, all right?” Again, she nods. It’s as if he were talking to a small child. Mulder goes through the motions fast; he finds a supermarket that’s open late without a problem. He picks up things on autopilot, his mind three steps ahead of him. All he wants is to get back to Scully as soon as possible. They don’t know how the touch works just yet, what Brother Andrew did to Scully. He shudders just thinking about it.

“Your wife sick?” The cashier, an old man with flecks of gray in his hair and his eyes, asks him. Mulder returns the man’s kind smile, too tired to explain. “My Betty was the same when she was with child. Take good care of her. I bet she’s too good for you anyway. My Betty sure was.” Mulder leaves a generous tip and takes his plastic bag without another word. His hands are shaking. He tries to ignore the feelings he can’t quite place, or doesn’t want to here and now, and gets into the car.

Scully startles when he returns. He throws her an apologetic smile and mouths a sorry. She looks tired and sick. Usually he is the one who needs doctoring. This flip is throwing him off. He considers joking about it, but Scully’s red-rimmed eyes and the pain that manifests itself in stoic lines around her face makes him reconsider.

“I brought some things,” he tells her, his voice soft. He walks over to the bed, sits down and empties the bag on the bed. “I didn’t know what…” Mulder trails off as they both stare at the contents now scattered on the sheets.

“Oh Mulder,” Scully whispers and he is convinced he’s done something wrong. Only when her head lifts and she looks at him with a warm smile does he understand that she’s thankful.

“Uhm, I figured Ginger Ale couldn’t harm,” he says needing to talk, “and you need to eat something so I figured crackers were the safest bet. There’s also Pepto-Bismol and jello.”

“Jello?” Scully takes the small cup into her hand and examines it.

“My mom always gave us jello when we were sick,” Mulder shrugs, “I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” He finds himself grinning.

“Thank you,” Scully says as she opens the crackers. She takes one into her mouth and chews carefully, her eyes on Mulder. She swallows with some difficulty and nods.

“How are you feeling?”

“My stomach hurts.” No ‘I’m fine’ this time and he is thankful for that much. “It feels like cramps, but I know it’s not.” They both blush looking at each other. Mulder is the first to look away.

“Is there anything else I can do? Sing, maybe? Just as a distraction?”

“No, I…” Scully touches the plastic bag and it rustles, disrupts the uncomfortable silence.

“What is it?” There’s impatience in Mulder’s voice that he tries to swallow, but it’s no use.

“I am grateful you did all this, Mulder, I really am. I just… what I really need is a heating pad.” Mulder can’t be certain, but he thinks he’s never seen Scully pout. He’s never seen her lips tremble, even if just slightly. Seeing her like this all he wants to do is hold her, keep her safe and warm. He’s bought half the store, it seems. A heating pad, however, he didn’t even think of.

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

“I’m just going to try the Ginger Ale and the crackers.” Her smile tells him that she wants to be alone. Mulder is not ready to leave her, though.

“Scully, I’m going to propose something and please hear me out first before you dismiss the idea.” He waits for her to object but she just glances at him.

“I could be… I could use my hand,” her eyes grow wide, “my hand as a heating pad. I know it’s not the same, and you might think it’s inappropriate, but my hand is bigger than yours,” her eyes are so wide now he’s afraid they’re going to pop out any second, “Let me be your heating pad?” Mulder finally finishes and he feels the blush cover his face, his whole body. Scully stuffs another cracker into her mouth and then, to Mulder’s surprise, she gives him a small, tentative nod. She unwraps herself from the blanket and settles down on her back. Mulder moves forward and can’t find a way to do this without it being awkward. He sits next to her, rubs his hands together, blows against them, and only then does he put it on her stomach over her blouse. They share a look; they both know this is not the most effective way to do this.

“Can I?” Mulder asks feeling like a teenager who is about to touch a girl for the first time. Scully gives him another small nod and he lets his hand wander under her blouse. One of them, maybe both, gasp, as his hand comes into contact with her skin. His fingers tickle her skin and she chuckles. Mulder stills his hand, feels goose bumps under his finger tips. “Better?” He asks, his voice raspy.

“Much.” Scully’s eyes drift close. Mulder remains still. The position he’s in is not comfortable, not in the slightest. But Scully looks peaceful and he will not move until he absolutely has to. Somewhere a clock ticks. He slows his breathing, falls into tandem with Scully’s. He knows, feels it deep in his own gut, this won’t last long. There will be a call, there will be another death. They will have to leave this hotel room and soon. But until then he will watch over Scully, be her heating pad, be anything she wants, and needs, him to be.


End file.
